


Apocalyptic Omens 101

by Palgrave (goldenrod)



Category: Community
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Mild Language, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-18
Updated: 2012-04-18
Packaged: 2017-11-03 20:38:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenrod/pseuds/Palgrave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeff Winger doesn't believe in love, or best friends, or doing things, but it's good you brought this to him. Missing scene from "Pillows and Blankets".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apocalyptic Omens 101

**Author's Note:**

> A quickie that came to me late last night. Feedback and constructive criticism always welcome. Enjoy!

Jeff stares at the message on his phone. He understands the words it’s composed in, and what those words mean individually, but the order that those words are placed in and the meaning that produces makes no sense to him.

 

It’s from Annie; it’s the first time she’s deigned to text him since their little argument in the “field hospital” earlier that day (and damn doesn’t he feel silly thinking about that room like that even in quotation marks, but it’s Greendale, the vortex of insanity sucking him in even slightly just proves he’s still human these days) and Jeff doesn’t understand why it makes him feel a chill like icy needles pricking his bones. He gets the first part, something about an email, and a text message, that he gets easy enough. Then it goes on to talk about _hurt feelings_ , and that he _doesn’t_ like the sound of that at all, but it’s the last sentence that has him thrown.

 

_... and apparently troy’s saying they aren’t friends anymore. :-(_

 

Which makes no sense to him. And not just because Annie Edison has dropped the capital ‘T’ in a proper noun even in a text message (which is a sign of the coming apocalypse all by itself). 

 

It’s not that he believes in best friends. Not really. The way Jeff sees it there’s a point where two people meet, and a point where two people part ways, and in between those two points they try and get as much as they can out of each other as possible, and if they happen to like each other a little bit, hey, bonus. Anything else is bullshit from greetings cards and a bunch of movies which apparently only exist so that Shirley MacLaine can have a career.

 

Except that Troy and Abed aren’t just friends. They’re TroyAndAbed. They’re inseparable. They have their silly handshakes and their geeky TV shows and bunk beds and secret languages that Jeff is actually kind of a little bit jealous of, even though he'd never admit it even if you removed his toenails with pliars. The idea of them not being friends, of them _stopping_ being friends isn’t... it just _isn’t_. 

 

Not possible. 

 

Can’t happen. 

 

And if it did, it can only be a sign of Bad Shit On The Way. End of Days. A Sign of the Coming Apocalypse. Like the Ten Plagues of Egypt. Ravens fleeing the Tower of London. Cthulhu rising from the deep (and shit, see how much this has affected him? He’s making geek references). Annie Edison not using proper grammar. 

 

Jeff looks back down at his phone, makes sure he didn’t misread the message. The little ‘t’ in ‘Troy’ taunts him. Crap.

 

The icy needles have faded, but there’s something gnawing in his stomach. He’s pretty sure it’s guilt. He doesn’t know why, since he’s pretty sure this isn’t his fault, and not even the kind of ‘not-his-fault’ where it pretty much _is_ but he could easily argue it off in a court of law. Okay, maybe he incited one or two pillow fights (or three, or four, or five or six or _okay_ , fine, a lot) so that he could blow off a test or two, but this is Greendale. The people here make taking pissy little stuff like pillow forts too seriously an Olympic sport. And yeah, maybe he should have taken things more seriously earlier in the Dean’s office, but...

 

But this is TroyAndAbed. They’re always doing dumb, childish stuff like this. He didn’t think they’d ever _mean_ it.

 

His phone buzzes again. Another text message, Britta this time:

 

_WTF TroynAbed nt frinds nymore?!?!!!!!_

 

And holy crap, the woman uses a lot of exclamation marks. He deciphers the message eventually, sends back a quick reply: _So I hear._

 

It takes barely thirty seconds for a reply:

 

_u need 2 fix this_

 

Yeah. Thanks, Britta. You can spell well when you need to. Any ideas how?

 

He doesn’t say that, doesn’t reply. He’s not sure how to. Because they’re always dumping crap like this on him, always expecting him to fix it, and he never lets on how much he secretly loves it, and he’s sure as hell not going to tell Britta that.

 

Only he’s not sure how to fix it. He’s not even sure he should. Everything ends, friends disappear, we all die alone. So what? Maybe Troy and Abed should just have their little spat, go their separate ways. Maybe it’s just the time for them. And sure, he'd just leave it at that, if this whole situation didn't already have a distinct 'omen of doom' feel to it. Hell, Shirley and Pierce have already picked sides, and he has a sudden image of Britta and Annie splitting between them as well, and him left in the middle all by himself. 

 

Not that that frightens him. He can be by himself. He’s used to being by himself. He works best by himself.

 

He’s just not sure he wants to be by himself anymore.

 

Jeff thinks back to what Annie said earlier; _Your words don’t mean anything. They’re just things you say to get what you want. Maybe you should shut up._

 

That's what words are. Jeff believes that, has done all his life. Anything else is just bad poetry.

_  
_

__

But, what he wants now is for Troy and Abed to get over this crap, to just go back to their goofy antics like it was before this whole stupid pillow fight started, and anyway, aren’t pillow forts and blanket forts basically the same thing anyway? Wikipedia certainly seems to think so. And he’s got words, and he knows how to use them, and yeah, maybe he wants to use them for something better than skipping class for a couple of days for a change. 

 

He sends a chain text to Britta and Annie: _Leave it to me. ~ Jeff Winger._

 

Jeff gets up, starts drafting a message to the two of them. He happens to know there’s a ceasefire now, some lame TV show everyone wants to watch. Time for a summit, sort this mess out once and for all.

 

And you know what, Jeff’ll invent the damn imaginary friendship hats himself if he needs to. 


End file.
